All The Things We Said
by DreaminDaze
Summary: Scotty spills his heart to Lilly and she unwittingly tramples all over it. When something terrible happens before she can make things right, will Scotty and Lilly make it through in one piece? Lilly's POV. Please read and review.
1. Steal My Breath

**So this story line has been done before. I'm sure of it. Many many times. The entire thing is in Lilly's POV, except for the italicized passage which is a flashback to the night before. I was worried about this angle, but I've seen it used before, very well, so I thought I'd give it a shot. **

**If you guys like it, it will hopefully be a three part story, but I guess it could stay a oneshot too. **

**Disclaimer: So yesterday I was watching Cold Case, and I noticed they [bleep] out words like pissed, ass, and bitch in the captions. Isn't that going a bit overboard seeing as it aired at late at night? Anyways, I digress, I don't own them. **

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**Chapter 1: Steal My Breath**

I'm walking down the street next to my partner, Scotty Valens, as we make our way back to the precinct in silence. Usually we'd be bantering back and forth, sometimes subtly, and sometimes, admittedly not so subtly flirting, but today, I honestly think you could cut the tension with a knife, it's so thick. You see, me and my partner, well it's been complicated and last night it got a whole lot more complicated, but I'm getting there. On the work front though, it's a day like any other, put away a bad guy, clean some of the low-life two-bit scum up off the streets, make the world a safer place, get underpaid doing it. The life of a murder cop.

Now I'm not complaining or anything, no way. I chose this career, worked damn hard to get it, and I'm happy with it. Most of the time anyways. After all, what could be more satisfying than putting away murderers? Well, other than I don't know, saving babies in Africa or something of that nature. Here I go again, rambling. Anyways, the original point was, I like my job, and I'm very protective of it.

Okay, now you're looking at me and asking how does one be protective of one's job. Well it's easy enough really, just keep it separate from your train wreck of a personal life. I'm not crazy, or as my therapist would say emotionally closed off, I'm just doing what I have to. Yeah, the therapist, you're wondering about that, I'll get there too.

Cold cases are a safe place to be, as far a homicide goes. More often than not, our doer is dead, or senile, or completely harmless, but recently we've had our fair share of serial killers and crazed office shooters too. What does this have to do with the therapist? Well, it seems the department decided that after shooting someone else in a dark attic, and getting shot in the same damn place I work everyday, I'm bound to have a screw loose up there, which is why I ended up with office mandated counseling.

Don't you hate it when someone else decides you've got issues? Hell I know I have issues, but they're mine and no one else's, especially not when that someone else insists on putting them on a slide and sticking them under a microscope. I guess you can tell I resent my therapist. Don't get me wrong, she's a nice lady, it's just the therapy in general. There isn't any need to go digging around in my past, and I'm sure as hell not about to do it now.

So where was I? Oh yeah, Scotty. Well, to explain about Scotty I guess I have to talk about all the other men in my life. So remember the train wreck of a personal life I mentioned before? That just about sums up my relationships in… six words. I haven't had the easiest go of it. Men flit in and out of my life, and no one stays around long enough to really get to know me. Not that I make it easy for them. Hell that's probably a big part of the problem. I think it's probably genetic, you know, the not letting anybody in thing, but I've come to accept my single life. My cats and I are perfectly happy on our own thank you very much.

That's why I was so surprised when Scotty showed up at my door yesterday. I'm used to seeing him at work, clean shaven and in neatly pressed suits, but it's two in the morning when he's hammering on my front door like he wants to break it down and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why. Stupid really, I should've known, everyone else seems to take pleasure in informing us of how clueless we are. Doesn't matter now I guess.

So when I saw him last night, he was sporting what looked like day old stubble, and his hair looked like, well it looked like what mine looked like that morning after Olivia took my pillow and Tripod used my head as a bed. So he's at my front door, and for reasons I can't begin to fathom, he's _furious, _as if he'd been stewing in something for ever and was only now acting on it. I suppose that should've been my first clue, that, or what he said next.

"_I dunno what the hell you want me to do about you Lil!"_

Okay, so that got my blood boiling. _What I want him to do about me?_ Excuse me, but I didn't work my ass off into homicide to get spoken to like that. I didn't know if he was drunk, or just pissed because the latest skanky bimbo he tried to pick up threw a drink in his face or something, but he was off his rocker. And I told him so. I tried to push him out of my house, but he's stronger than me, and before I know it he's pacing my living room, muttering nonsense, or else just boring holes through my furniture with his eyes.

Kind of like he's doing now, except I don't know what he's trying to burn now, maybe the side walk or that hot dog stand. He's probably thinking about the last words we exchanged, voices raised, before he finally left, just like I am. I wonder if he's regretting it.

"_I'm freakin' in love with you Lilly! I been in love with you since day one, and I know you feel the same way, so just tell me, what do you want-?"_

"_Shut up! Just shut up Scotty! God, what is wrong with you?"_

"_What the hell you talkin' about?"_

"_Can't you see you've ruined everything? We are NEVER going to be anything but friends and partners, and now I don't know if we can even be that. I. Don't. Love. You."_

"_You don't mean that." _

"_GET OUT! Just get out of my house." _

"_Lil-"_

"_Just get out!"_

I know, I'm cringing now too. I can't believe I said those things, but can you believe he said what he said? He's in love with me? He's been in love with me for longer than since the effects of the alcohol started? To spring that on me is nothing less than suicidal, although I didn't deal with it in the best of ways. I know I hurt him. My therapist has nicknamed this The Porcupine Routine. People get close, quills go up, people get hurt, people don't get close anymore. But Scotty… he just won't stop shaking my walls, no matter how much I hurt him.

I look over at him, and find him still staring straight ahead. We haven't said a thing since last night, just avoided each other like the plague. This silence, well it's my specialty, my coping mechanism. Scotty has never been able to keep it all inside. For him to be ignoring me, well it makes me wonder how badly I've messed this all up.

I lied, you know. When I said I don't love him, I was just, saying things, things that I wish to God I could take back. I just got scared, that's all. I admit it; I was scared when he put the truth out in the open like that. I figure the best thing to do now is to talk to him. Boy, have the tables turned. Now here I am, trying to catch his eye, get him to slow down a bit so I can say something.

What would I say anyway? I'm sorry seems like a good place to start, but I know Scotty, and he's going to be expecting more than that. Whatever Rush, just say something, before you get back to the precinct and he disappears to the other side of the room.

I put my hand on his arm then and stop him from walking anymore. He's facing me now, but he's not looking at me, he's focused instead over my shoulder, across the street. I try to catch his eye, I want him to be looking at me, he has to be looking at me to understand that I'm being honest.

He just keeps looking over my shoulder, but I sense that it's no longer because he can't stand looking at me. His eyes widen with horror and I know something's wrong. Before I know what he's doing, his hand is on my upper arm, his grip hard and vice like. I gasp, he's never touched me like this before, not that touching was something we usually do. In one fluid motion, he tosses me to the side with as much force as he can muster.

I lose my balance and fall into the side of a building next to us. Just as I'm straightening up, I'm about to yell at him. So he doesn't want to talk to me, oh boo, but how dare he manhandle me like that? A single, piercing gunshot fills the air and stops me in my tracks.

Oh God.

Scotty.

He's falling, hitting the pavement as if in slow motion. Time stops, or I swear it does because there's no way time can keep right on going when I've stopped breathing. Stopped thinking, stopped… everything.

Why didn't I say it? I love you. I care about you. I can't imagine ever living without you.

Why didn't I say it?

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**So this turned out much more angsty than I meant it to. Lilly's inner musings were supposed to be humorous. I think this could stand alone, but if you guys are interested, I'll post the other two chapters. I'm a sucker for a happy ending too. **


	2. Wipe My Tears

**I'm glad you guys are interested! Here's the next little bit. Only one chapter after this. ): This has been fun. **

**Disclaimer: I'm off to watch Cold Case now. I'm gonna try and reach through the TV to obtain them, I'll keep you guys posted, but as of now, I still don't own them

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**Chapter 2: Wipe My Tears**

Scotty got shot. Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God.

I can't breathe. I can't move. I _can't_ believe it.

Won't believe it. Whatever.

I drop to my knees next to him, ignoring the stars in my vision from hitting the wall when he threw me out of the way. When I see the blood, it makes me want to throw up, makes me want to scream at the sky, makes me want to cry. But I choke back anything I'm feeling and press my hands to the left side of his chest, where there is a red, gaping hole. My head is spinning, and I see people pulling out their phones to call an ambulance. I focus my attention back on Scotty when his cold hand closes around my shaking wrist.

I start to fight a battle with tears.

"Lil… no time…"

I hear myself telling him to shut up. There is time. There will be plenty of time after we get through this. Lifting my hands from his chest, I rip off my shirt, the buttons flying in every which direction and leaving me in a thin tank top. The cold doesn't even register; the adrenaline is making my skin feel as if it's on fire. I bunch up the material, soft and blue, my favorite shirt, and press it to his chest. It's soaked with blood in a matter of seconds. I watch as the blue, isn't so blue anymore.

I've never seen someone bleed this much, this fast. Even when I got shot, the paramedics were on scene, right away. I didn't bleed too much before we were en route to the hospital. I strain my ears and hear the distant sirens that are too far away, and I wonder how long someone can lay here bleeding before they… NO, shut up Rush. Now is not the time.

I continue to fight the battle with tears.

Pretty soon the ambulance is pulling up next to me. I don't feel relief. Actually I don't feel anything. How can I? I'm up to my elbows in Scotty's blood and shaking with the effort of keeping his wound closed. Someone is helping me up, holding onto my arms as they pull me away from Scotty. At this point all I want to do is keep clinging onto him. He is real. This situation, this isn't real. This. Isn't. Real. The air between my arms where Scotty used to be feels thick, heavy with blood and tinged with panic. And then I know.

This is real.

I lose the battle with the tears.

Furiously, I scrub at my face with my hands, trying to erase any signs of tears. My partner needs me damn it and I'm busy succumbing to my own damn emotions? Hell no. It doesn't do much good though, just smears blood on my face in addition to the tears. I must look like hell.

I get on the ambulance with him, just like everyone is expecting me to. All I can think of along the way is that Scotty can't die. He can't. Not after all the things we've said to each other in the last twenty four hours. All the things _I_ said. Oh God, did I really tell him I didn't love him? That I wasn't sure if we could be friends anymore? I bury my head in my hands as the paramedics fuss over Scotty.

Now usually denial isn't my thing. I face my problems head on, plowing through them like nobody's business and ignoring anyone and anything that gets in my way. I'm proud of that. But right now, in the ambulance, hearing the scary erratic tone that is my partner's heartbeat, I'm tempted to stick my fingers into my ears and pretend I'm somewhere else.

No.

I'm Lilly Rush damn it. I don't fold.

We're at the hospital now. They've taken Scotty into one of those trauma bays. You know, the kind where they triage your injuries before taking you into surgery. I've been there, it's the eeriest thing ever. Countless machines and doctors, but no one will talk to you. I wish I could go in and talk to him, hold his hand, say all those things I was going on that chilly street before they take him into surgery. Too bad they don't allow that.

I call my colleagues and my boss. They should know. In fact, they should probably blame me. If I hadn't said those things yesterday, we would've been talking on the way back, walked slower. Wouldn't have been at that spot at that time. If I hadn't stopped him to assuage my own guilt, we would've kept right on walking. If I hadn't made him _fall in love_ with me, he wouldn't have taken that bullet for me.

Okay, I'm wrong about that last part. No matter who I was, Scotty would've thrown me out of the way of that bullet. That's just how he is. He's got to take on all the problems and protect everyone. The world needs people like that.

"Asystole… Push the atropine… charge the paddles to 200"

I whip back around and find myself pressed against the glass, looking through at Scotty. Oh my God. They're shocking his heart. I can hear myself sobbing now, pounding against the small window and yelling incoherently. I don't even know what words I'm saying, but I'm pretty sure 'no' and 'please' feature prominently. I'm not even me at this point. I get that feeling like, all of this isn't happening to me, it's happening to someone else, you know?

Anyways, maybe it's stupid, but when they wheel Scotty out of the trauma bay, all I want to do is latch on to him and never let go. I'm aware, I'm still crying. For once I'm not trying to hide it. I figure I deserve a few tears sometimes too. I start to run after him, it's almost instinctual. Someone is telling me he needs surgery, but I'm still just running after the gurney. I'm almost there… I could take his hand… Say all those things I should've said last night.

Just then strong arms wrap around me from behind and impede my progress. Don't you hate it when something like that happens? I mean, I know it's for the best that I don't harass the doctors, but God… When I turn around I'm ready to yell at whoever has their arms clamped around me, but… it's Kat Miller. My best friend. My trusted colleague.

And just like that the floodgates open.

"I-I, I told him… I don't… he loves me… and I-I… oh God… I messed up."

I can practically feel the shock radiating off of Kat as I collapse into her arms. We both slide to the floor and I'm so thankful she doesn't try to whisper stupid things or comment on the bombshell I just dropped. We just sit there. I guess it's my turn to try and bore holes in solid objects with my eyes, trying to regain some semblance of control.

I've never lost control like this before, and frankly it scares me a little. I'm Lilly Rush, the expert at keeping things behind my iron clad defensive wall. That damn wall was _supposed_ to be bulletproof. _Scotty_ proof. Obviously, it failed me miserably. No way is that useless wall up now, because if it was, my heart wouldn't be aching like it is.

I don't know what's happening to me, I really don't. In the short space of less than twenty four hours, I went from practically shoving him outside of my house to sitting in a hospital, looking up at the ceiling, and begging the Powers That Be to bring him back. Talk about messed up. No wonder the department decided I need therapy.

With nothing else to do, I sigh heavily and hug my knees up to my chest. Fetal position. Comfort. Nothing left to do but wait.

I'm waiting to say it. I love you. I care about you. I can't imagine ever living without you.

Just waiting to say it.

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**Aww, Lilly needs a hug. Actually she needs Scotty back. That'll have to wait a little though. Please Review!**


	3. Spill My Heart

**This is it! I did my best with the ending, but I think it ended up a bit too sappy, but I hope you guys enjoy it. And please leave a review on your way out. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned them, I'd write an epic Scotty/Lilly storyline and probably get fired because it would no longer be a procedural show.

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**Chapter 3: Spill My Heart**

I'm still sitting in the hospital hallway. I don't know how many hours it's been, but it must have been a long time because I can barely feel my lower body. Still, I don't make a move to stand up. Where am I supposed to go at a time like this? The idea of a bar crosses my mind, but I know I couldn't… that's my mom's game.

They wheeled Scotty out of surgery a few hours ago, telling us that there was nothing more they could do, that all there was left was waiting and hoping he'd wake up. Talk about tragic irony, huh? All these years, we've just been partners, and yesterday the possibility of something more just showed up at my door. It was disheveled and angry, but still a possibility. Not only did I proceed to mess it all up, but now the universe is telling me that I may never get a chance to repair it. Yep. Story of my life I suppose.

The doctors told us we should talk to Scotty, that he was essentially in a coma, and sometimes the comatose could hear us. I know. I know what you're thinking. It's something along the lines of, _what the hell are you doing out here when you should be in there talking to him, Rush?_ But I just can't bring myself to do it. All the others, they've been in there, sitting by his bedside and recounting memories, giving him strength. But everything I think of him lying in that bed, oxygen mask over his face, this giant wave of guilt comes over me and it freezes me. Every time I think of getting up this happens. Every time.

What if he dies? No, seriously. This is the first time I've allowed myself to think about it. What if he just doesn't wake up? I'd have to get a new partner. One that isn't ridiculously good looking, one who doesn't make me laugh like he does, one who might not take a bullet for me, one who isn't as dedicated to the job as I am… one who just isn't Scotty. I'd miss out on… on what? Well, on everything that he silently offered me yesterday. More than a partnership… love. That same laughter and dedication outside of work. And I'd have to live with the fact that the last thing I said to him was an order to leave following what was likely the most hurtful things I'd ever said to anyone in my life. _I. Don't. Love. You._

I guess you could say that's when I made my decision to go into that room. I have to make things right. Even if there's the slightest chance he could hear me, and my voice could coax him out of that deep sleep, I want to try. I'm going to try. _I'm trying now, damn it._

Without allowing myself to dwell on it any longer, I get to my feet. Bad idea. I'm so dizzy as the blood rushes out of my head that I have to steady myself with the wall for a few seconds. As soon I'm composed, I stride purposefully into Scotty's hospital room.

It takes a second for me to get up the courage to sit next to him, in that stupid chair that's probably designed to make people feel uncomfortable. That or the hospital engineers are terrible, but listen to me… stalling again. I remember the first thing I wanted to say, despite the haze of I don't know what emotions swirling in my mind. So I just start babbling.

I start talking about how sorry I am.

"I'm sorry. God, Scotty I'm sorry. For you getting shot for me. I-I wish it were me in that bed and not you. 'Cause it's killing me, just watching you there. Just… sorry. And sorry for the stupid things I said yesterday. I didn't mean to hurt you. Believe me Scotty, the last thing I want is to hurt you."

Apologies aside, I'm not ready to venture into the other, murkier stuff, so I start hear myself start talking about the finer points of our partnership.

I start with the day we first met.

"Remember when we first saw each other in the observation room? I think we were both pretty pissed at our new partners. I just wanted to say you turned out great. You are a better partner than I could ever hope for, probably a way better partner than I am. R-remember that day we solved our first case together? And the first time you got my coffee order completely right? And all those times you saved my life or stopped me from doing something stupid? Oh, and uh, we can't forget all those late nights at the office."

I find myself talking about this one case, I think afterward I realized maybe it wasn't so crazy to be dedicated to this job like I am, as long as there's someone to be dedicated with me.

"Anyways, that one time, we're both in the evidence warehouse, surrounded by cold jobs. It's probably three or four o'clock in the morning, and I fall asleep on your shoulder. Boss found us the next morning, both snoring away on the floor. Told us not to come to work for a week."

I trail off then, wondering what the hell I'm doing. I'm supposed to be telling him the things I would've said yesterday, if I wasn't so stupid. I guess I'm putting it off. And if there's one thing I don't want to be, it's a procrastinator. So I grit my teeth, and decide I might as well come out with it. If this is going to be my only chance, well I don't want to have any regrets. God knows I have enough of those to last a lifetime.

I've been feeling kind of foolish, just wringing my hands and trying to make awkward, one sided conversation with him. I don't know what tells me to, but I find myself reaching for his hand. I've never held Scotty's hand before, believe it or not. In fact, I can could on one hand the number of times we've made physical contact. It just isn't something we do. As I cradle his hand in mine though, his tanned skin in contrast to my own pale color, I realize how right it feels, and I guess it gave me courage to say everything I said next.

"Scotty, this is gonna sound stupid. If you can h-hear me in there, I know it's gonna sound stupid, and I want you to know that I know… I… love you. I love you. I _love_ you. Yeah, I know. Couldn't I have just said this yesterday? It would've saved a lot of trouble. I guess it takes almost losing something you love to realize how much it means to you. Scotty, you're more than a partner to me, and I know that 'cause if you were only a partner I wouldn't be feeling this bad. I care about you so much it's ridiculous."

The words are spilling out of my mouth and it's such a relief. I don't care how cliché they are, or how sappy they sound, how out of place or inappropriate, or controlled by big red police lines they are. I have to get them out. I realize they've been sitting on my chest for way too long, instilled way before Scotty showed up yesterday. I suppose now that I've started, my heart won't settle for doing things half way so I keep going.

"That's why you've… you've got to wake up Scotty. There's no way that this is it. That we both see the light and then it's taken away again? No. I can't live without you. I don't wanna live without you. So, just… just wake up. Wake up!"

My last few words are punctuated by sobs, and hiccups. I'm probably starting to sound hysterical. Wait, no probably about it. I'm _definitely_ starting to sound hysterical. And as Scotty's eyes slowly ease open, I know I'm not just sounding hysterical, I am completely, hysterically hallucinating… off the deep end. I squeeze my eyes shut and stop myself from looking at him. Because if it's not real, if him waking up isn't real, if it's just my mind playing a cruel joke on me… well I don't know if I can take that.

Then I feel the gentle pressure on my hand.

Scotty.

He's squeezing my hand back.

Never mind the fact that I've been slowly depriving his finger tips of circulation for past fifteen minutes, the gentle pressure I think I'm feeling makes me open my eyes again. And I find myself staring back into his.

Shock.

Complete utter, shock.

I drink in the sight before me. He's all disheveled hair and wavery smile, and … are those tears in his eyes? Damn, they are. He's crying too.

And before I know it I'm leaning forward and my lips are on his. I don't know if the tears on my face are his or mine because everything is just all mixed together. In the still cognizant part of my mind, it registers that Scotty probably doesn't know what the hell I'm doing, since chances are he didn't hear a word I said, and as much as I dread having to say it all again later, in that moment I learn to live in the present.

"Hey." I whisper, resting my forehead on his and trapping his face between my hands. Maybe it wasn't the best thing to say, but it was all I could think of. So sue me.

"Hey."

I can't help the smile that crosses my face. Scotty does that, makes me smile like nobody's business, even with a single syllable. In the most dire of situations, he never fails to bring a smile to my face, to my heart.

Things are about to get a lot more complicated between us, I know that. There's no way either of us can go back to the way we were, not after the past twenty four hours. All the things we said, all the things we went through. Was it really only a day ago that this man was only my partner?

I decide then that we can figure this all out later. All the fine print, the relationship, the partnership, the friendship, the _love._ What matters now is that we're both here, and neither of us have half a mind to be anywhere else. I don't know much for sure. I've never known much of anything in my life for sure actually. But I do know one thing. Scotty and I have something special. Something that I don't ever want to let go of, and if the look in his eyes are any indication, he feels the same way.

Oh, I guess I know one more thing.

My therapist is gonna have a field day with this.

But despite the hours of talking to about my feelings to a complete stranger looming in the not so distant future, I don't feel the dread I usually feel. Somewhere in the turmoil of the past day I realized only one thing matters. And that one thing, the one that eclipses everything else, I did it right.

I said it. I love you. I care about you. I can't imagine ever living without you.

I said it.

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**That's the end! If you have a spare moment, please leave a review to tell me how I did. :) **


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